The Predator and Its Prey
by procol harum
Summary: Following the ending of Blinded by the Thousand Points of Lights, where the man attacks Tom instead of getting arrested. But Doug saves him, Tom takes off, more problems, Doug becomes unhomeless, and Doug/Tom slash might show up.
1. chapter 1

meh... was watchin' BBTTPOL and this idea came to mind i own nothing

* * *

Tom pulled his gun out quickly, intent on telling the man that he was going to be arrested. At least that's what he had planned on doing, until the man started laughing.

"What?" Tom asked, annoyed. He just wanted to arrest the guy, hand him over to another officer, and then go home, shower, and sleep in a real bed that wasn't made out of cardboard or cement. But this man found something about the situation amusing, and Tom became curious as to what that was. Who would laugh knowing they were about to be arrested?

The man laughed again, ignoring the question, and then headed towards the younger man.

"Hey, stop," Tom ordered. "I'll shoot you."

"We both know you can't unless I am armed, or if I attack you," the man answered. "Besides, I just want to talk."

"Then stop right where you are and talk. And don't try to make any deals because you're going away for a long time."

"I know that, boy. I'm just wondering why you seem so scared of me. Even now I can see your hands shaking."

"Just shut up and turn around," Tom hissed, trying to steady his hands. He wasn't scared, he was just nervous.

"Why don't you?" the man countered. "I already gave you the money, so technically you owe me."

"I don't owe you dick, you bastard," Tom hissed. "Hell, I know what you've done to those other kids; you beat the shot outta them and left them for dead. And I bet you're gonna do the same with me. And when you're done, you'll probably take all your money back anyways, so here," Tom stopped and pulled two twenty-dollar bills out of his pocket. He threw them at the man, but he just let them fall to the floor. "Here," Tom concluded.

"I don't want the money," the man replied, stepping closer to Tom.

"Don't move," Tom warned shakily, even though he knew the man was right. He couldn't shoot unless his life was in serious danger.

"You gonna shoot me boy?"

Tom backed away, his hands shaking and his aim becoming unsteady; even if he could shoot, he would probably miss anyways. "No," he replied as his back hit the wall. There was nowhere else to go and Tom was hoping the man would attack or pull a weapon so he could just shoot him and get the Hell out of here.

"Didn't think so." The man smiled languidly, stepping even closer to Tom who felt himself becoming more and more trapped.

"Stop moving," Tom whispered, but his words went unnoticed. "C'mon man, I'm a cop, you can't do this. Just turn around and make this easy on yourself."

"If I'm going to jail, then why wouldn't I do this? I do this, I get a extra year tacked onto my life sentence. So it doesn't really matter what I do, now does it?"

The man was inches from Tom, his breath warm against Tom's face, smelling of stale liquor and rotten eggs. Tom gagged but suppressed the urge to throw up. He knew what was going to happen and he knew he would powerless to stop it.

Unless he shot the man now, before anything _could_ happen. But if he did that, he could lose his badge, because the man wasn't armed and there were no visible signs that Tom had been attacked.

"What's your name, boy?"

"None of your business, and I'm _not_ a boy," Tom hissed, trying to edge sideways. The man caught onto his motions and laughed. "You can't escape, you know that? You're mine now."

"I don't belong to anybody," Tom hissed bitterly, trying to move sideways again. This time the man reacted and quickly grabbed onto Tom; he grabbed his left arm first and pulled Tom forward, away from the wall, before forcing him right back into it. Tom let out a grunt of pain at the sudden impact and felt his gun slip away from his hand, listened as it clattered to the floor with a dull thud and then he knew that he was completely helpless.

He had been the prey, trying to escape the predator. Except he had been caught, and was now at the hands of this animal, who would do what he wanted and leave him for dead, just like all the other kids; just like Aaron.

tbc...


	2. chapter 2

The man grinned as Tom struggled helplessly under him, pleading with him to get off, fear evident in his tone as he stumbled through his words. 

"Just shut up already," the man hissed, jamming one knee into Tom's leg painfully.

"G-get off," Tom continued, because he was not going to shut up and was planning on just plain screaming out for help when the man's mouth was on his. Tom gagged as the foul stench he had smelled earlier was now burning strongly as a taste in his mouth and tears welled in his his eyes; he knew the man wouldn't stop with a kiss and he was scared. He didn't want to die this way; he didn't want to be killed at the hands of a merciless predator.

Then there was a startled shout and Tom realized that there was somebody else in the room. "Hey! Get the Hell offa him!" the voice came again and Tom knew he recognized it, but he couldn't quite place the name.

The man pulled away, surprised at the other person's presence, but still kept a tight grip on Tom's left arm. The boy was his, and he wasn't going to give him up until he had gotten what he had wanted.

"I said let him go; I'm a cop, so is he, so just let go."

Tom could now see the other person, standing near the doorway, gun raised and aimed at the man. Now he recognized him.

Doug. Doug could save him, because he had his gun. And Tom knew Doug had every right to shoot this man because he had attacked Tom. Even if he hadn't been attacked, Tom knew Doug would shoot the man just for touching Tom. He would shoot him for even just trying to touch Tom.

"Why?" the man asked casually, tightening his grip on Tom's arm.

"What?" Doug asked startled at the question; obviously this guy was smart, so why not use his brain to realize he was screwed and should just let Tom go?

"Yes," the man replied, "I paid him, he owes me."

"Yeah, and I gave you back your money you si-" Tom started to speak up but the man backhanded him sharply, the motion causing Tom's head to snap sharply to the left. He groaned in pain as he readjusted his head, now staring defiantly at his attacker. "He'll shoot you," Tom promised. "I'm his partner, his best friend; he won't think twice about killing you."

Doug stared at Tom now, surprised at the lack of emotion in his voice, at the words he had spoken. Although Tom wasn't exactly wrong...

"Do it," the man hissed, dragging Tom in front of him. "Do it and hope you don't him instead."

Tom tried to break out of the grip but the man now had one hand gripped tightly around his left arm, the other wrapped around his throat. He was stuck and knew the man was right; if Doug shot there would be a better chance of hitting him instead of the man.

Doug gulped, not sure what to do. If he tried to shot the guy he could end up hitting Tom. There was only a small chance he wouldn't and actually hit his intended target. So he stood, watching Tom as fear invaded his features, wanting so much to kill the man that held him so tightly, so savagely.

"Drop your gun," the man ordered, his tone controlling and filled with annoyance.

"Doug don't," Tom said. "Just-just go. You're not getting' killed because of me."

The man laughed behind Tom, causing him to shiver. "Who said I was going to kill him?" he asked. "Now drop the gun or I snap his neck."

Doug looked helplessly at Tom, mouthing '_sorry_' as he carefully placed his firearm on the floor.

"Doug!" Tom shouted, wanting his friend to just go; to get out of here and back to safety.

"Shut up Tommy," Doug hissed, "I ain't leavin' you here, got it?"

"He's gonna kill us Doug," Tom whispered. "If you go, he won't kill you."

"So what?" Doug replied. "You die then there's no point in me being alive; I'll just keep blamin' myself for your death and probably drink myself to death."

"N-no," Tom whispered as the man started laughing. "It won't be your fault. I'm the idiot who came up here alone, right? Not you."

"Look man, just let him go," Doug spoke up. "We can make a deal okay? I mean, you probably already got a life sentence, but you let him go, we can cut time off."

"Yeah right," the man laughed. "You'll cut time off my sentence for attacking those kids. Then, then you'll come and tack an extra what, ten years on for attacking Tommy here."

"No," Doug replied, grimacing at the way the man had spoken Tom's nickname. "Look, just let him go okay? Then we'll go back to the station and work something out."

"How about you leave," the man offered, his tone icy, "And then me and Tommy here can finish what we had started before you so rudely interrupted."

"Like Hell that's gonna happen," Doug hissed. "Like fucking Hell."

"Oh? Alright then, I guess I have to kill you first... Unless you want to watch?"

Doug's stomach twisted as he heard those words and resisted the urge to lunge at the man; it wasn't like he could do much anyways, what with Tom being in the way.

"D-don't kill him," Tom said to the man. "Or else you'll get the death sentence."

"Oh well," the man replied, sighing dramatically. "Guess that would be better than rotting in jail for the rest of my life."

"But it won't be," Doug spoke up, taking a step towards the other two men. "You let him go, we can cut ten, maybe twenty years off your sentence. You could be out in twenty years."

"I know how you guys work, giving out deals like they're Christmas gifts. And let's face it, I'm not stupid. Once I release Tommy, you take back what you said and next thing I know I'm in a jail cell or the electric chair."

Doug knew he was screwed because the man wouldn't believe him. All the man wanted was Tom and he didn't seem to care what happened to him afterwards. And Doug had nothing else to give, to say, to help Tom out. And it was then that Doug knew that both he and Tom were screwed, and that both were probably going to die. Unless Tom got himself out of the way and Doug could shoot the man, they were both dead.

tbc...


	3. chapter 3

Doug stared ahead, almost blindly, engulfed in a wave of confusion and fear; confusion because he had no idea what to do and fear because of that same reason. Tom stood only a few feet away, although he seemed so far; his eyes were clouded in fear as he watched Doug helplessly debating what to do. Except Doug had no idea what to do; he could try and get his gun but the man had set himself up so that breaking Tom's neck would be easy. And Doug wasn't going to get Tom killed because of any of his stupid screw-ups; he had already gotten Tom in trouble because of them in the past, and he definitely wasn't going to see him killed because of yet another one. He would just have to wait for the perfect opportunity to attack; he wasn't so sure he would get one.

Doug stared ahead, almost blindly, as his partner was held captive in some sick bastard's twisted game; watched as Tom was held captive in some sick bastard's twisted grip. He watched, helplessly, as the man whispered something in the younger man's ear; he watched as whatever had been said caused Tom to cringe and try to pull away. He watched, helplessly, unable to do anything to save Tom. And he and Tom, they were partners; whenever one was in trouble, the other was supposed to help out the one in danger. Except Doug couldn't and that made him feel helpless. So he just stood and watched helplessly, trying to think of anything that would get Tom and himself out of there safely. And alive.

_"Hey!" Doug called, running over to the teenager. "Hey, you seen a tall guy, brown hair, kinda skinny? Usually stands around that video store?" Doug asked a teenager as he an to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and using the grip to stall the boy in his fast-paced motion. The boy shrugged the hand away and stopped walking, instead turning to face Doug. __"I think you just described me," he replied cheekily, a smart-ass grin on his face. He had blonde hair, although the dirt and filth in it could fool you into thinking it was a dirtier colour. And he was skinny, far more skinny than Tom; an unhealthy skinny. Doug felt bad for the kid standing there, pale skin glistening in the feeble glow of the flickering street lamp above. Except right now he had to find Tom; he had no time to worry about some runaway._

_"Yeah, right," Doug responded uneasily. "Uh, look, he was wearin' a leather coat, and this red and white plaid shirt. With a denim jacket, it said CHOSEN on the back? You seen him?" Doug was getting desperate now, had been as soon as he realized he couldn't find Tom anywhere. He hadn't been able to find Ioki or Booker either, but Tom had promised to meet up with him ten minutes ago – and Tom Hanson never broke his promises._

_"Yeah," the boy replied, tapping a small fist against his head, trying to 'think'. " Yeah I think somethin' like that," he finished, looking hopefully at Doug. _

_"Look kid, that guy's my friend and he could be in serious trouble-"_

_"It pays to be on the street, man. Ya gotta be careful or you could wind up dead; ain't my fault your friend's so stupid," the boy spat angrily, raising his voice on the last part. And Doug wasn't in the mood to hear some street kid call Tom stupid; if it wasn't for Tom getting in the guy's car, this kid could have been a next possible victim. He wasn't stupid - he had possibly saved the kid's life._

_Doug grabbed the boy by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall; the boy winced as the brick tore at his back, his thin and torn shirt doing nothing to protect the skin. "Hey man! Let me down!" he yelled angrily as Doug raised him off of the ground._

_"Where'd he go? You saw him, didn't you? So where did he GO!" Penhall demanded, yelling the last word._

_"I-I'm sorry man, just let me down and I'll tell ya," the boy pleaded. "C'mon man, just lemme down, I never meant ta call your friend stupid, okay?"_

_Doug glared angrily at the boy, wondering if he actually could trust him.** Probably not**, he thought._

_"You tell me then I'll let you down, how about that?"_

_"Alright, alright - He-he got into a black car, man, I-I swear, that's all I saw," the boy responded quickly, stuttering a few of the words._

_"Which way did it go?"_

_"That way!" the boy yelled, trying to raise an arm; Doug's grip restricted the movement though and he gave up. Doug noticed this and let him go; he fell to the ground, and, breathing heavily, raised a shaking arm and attempted to point to Doug's left. "Th-that way, they went that way."_

_Doug glared once more at the teen, who was now on his knees, his chest heaving in and out as he struggled to breathe. Doug didn't know why he couldn't breathe and frankly, he didn't really care. He hurried off in the direction the boy had directed him in, hoping that Tom would be okay._

_TBC..._


	4. chapter 4

Tom watched Doug thinking and he knew; he knew that Doug was blaming himself for the mess Tom had gotten himself into. But there was no way it could have been Doug's fault, could it have? He was the one who had gotten into the car without telling anyone he was doing so; he hadn't waited for back-up; he hadn't shot the man when he knew he should have. But Doug, Doug had come, knowing that procedure said you had to look out for your partner. Tom hadn't, he had screwed up. He had gone off without telling his partner, and he had screwed up. Doug hadn't, he had done the right thing. He had tried to save Tom. Except there was no way Doug _could_ save him and now he was probably going to die here because of Tom's screw-up; Doug had already paid for enough of those, though. In the past, how many times had Doug been dragged down when Tom had messed up? 

Too many times.

And now; now he was going to die because of another one.

Tom watched, and saw in Doug's eyes what he always saw when the older man was deep in thought. He also aw fear. Fear was not something he ever thought he would see in those eyes. Sure, Tom had seen Doug scared, but he had never actually showed the emotion before. But Doug was thinking, probably of how to get them out of here. Of course he wouldn't, though, because any sudden movement from Doug would result in Tom's neck being snapped. And then he would be dead. At least Doug would have a chance to escape, then. Unless the man killed him too. All in all, there was no way the both of them were going to get out of here alive. Maybe one, most probably neither, but definitely not both.

"Tommy."

Tom jumped slightly at the sudden icy tone; he had almost forgotten the man was behind him and then he had gone and whispered _that_ in his ear. He struggled futilely as the man continued whispering in his ear that one word, over and over - Tommy, Tommy - over and over. And it disgusted him and scared him at the same time. He just wanted to get away and go home. He didn't want to die like this, at the hands of this merciless predator. But now he knew that that was the only way he had of getting out of here.

Dead. Not alive; he would never make it out of here alive.

Dead. That was when he would be allowed freedom.

TBC...


	5. chapter 5

**review replies:**

**LilaGrace: lol ur welcome... yeah, actually, I was only going to load chapters 3 and 4 at the same time, because they go together, w/ the whole Doug one, and then the Tom one, but I was stupid and forgot to upload chapter 2 so... lol thanks for the review XD**

**rubydoo: thanks XD and glad you liked it, wasn't so sure about those two chaps... your welcome**

_I own nothing..._

oh yeah, first part, in_ italics _is Doug's thoughts continued

* * *

_He had been searching for nearly five minutes, heading further down the street, looking everywhere, and he still hadn't found anything that even came close to resembling the vehicle he was so intent on finding. He had tried asking other people if they had seen it, but had barely muttered a __**hey**__ before they were gone, hurrying right by him as if he weren't even there. Then again, they had probably thought he was just asking for money._

_"Excuse me," Doug tried again, walking up to an older woman with graying hair. The elderly were always more generous and Doug figured he had a better chance at talking to her than he did everyone else._

_"Oh you poor dear," the woman started to say before Doug could continue. Her voice, brittle and low yet filled with compassionate concern, reminded Doug of his grandmother. _

_"I just-" Doug started to explain, trying to shake memories of his own grandmother from his mind. The woman didn't listen, instead waving a hand at him and cutting him off. "No need to explain," she said, staring up at the younger man._

_She was a good two feet shorter than Doug but the officer felt compelled to listen as she rattled on about some friend's kid who had run away and been killed and – Doug stopped paying attention, his thoughts trailing to Tom, possibly dead himself. He nodded his head every few seconds, pretending to listen. Except Tom wasn't dead; there was no way he could be. But if he was, Doug would never be able to forgive himself._

_"Such a tragedy," the woman concluded as Doug focused his attention on her once again._

_"Yeah," he mumbled, feeling bad for not listening to the entire story. The officer jumped when he felt his hand being grasped lightly and looked down to find the woman pushing two pieces of green paper into his hand. He blushed at this, embarrassed. He couldn't accept the money; he didn't even need it._

_Moho and the others did, though, so with a muttered **thanks**, Doug pushed the bills into the pocket of his coat and then quickly blurted, "Have you seen a black car?" before the woman could walk away, leaving Doug with no further help on finding Tom._

_"A what, dear?" the woman responded with a chuckle. "I'm afraid my hearing isn't as good as it used to be."_

_"A black car," Doug repeated, a little more loudly to ensure she **would **hear him this time._

_"Oh yes," the woman replied slowly, hope springing to life in Doug like a flame on a candle as it's lit for the first time. "I think I did see one. Just down the street, there," she continued, turning and pointing in the direction Doug had been heading in. At least he knew he would have found it eventually. _

_"Thank you so much," Doug replied, the hope spreading throughout him, smiling brightly at the woman. "You may have saved my friend's life." _

_A feeling in his gut told Doug that the car this woman had seen was the car he had been searching for. And he always followed his gut instinct, because it was almost always right._

_Ignoring the startled expression that fell across the woman's face, increasing the depth of her wrinkles, Doug took off at a run, relief flooding throughout him. The feeling in his gut grew stronger and he knew that the woman had seen the car he had been searching for. He knew that soon he will have found it, and that with it, he would find Tom._

"Kick the gun over here."

Doug jumped, his thoughts quickly swirling into a fog and vanishing, bringing him back to the here and now. He still stood in some dingy hotel room; Tom still stood feet away, staring now at the floor instead of Doug; the bastard still stood behind Tom, holding him in a vice grip that could become deadly at any given moment.

"What?" Doug asked, unsure of what the man had said.

"I said to kick your gun this way," the man replied icily. Doug noticed that Tom flinched as the words were said. Or maybe it was the cold tone that did it.

"You gonna give me my friend?" Doug asked, anger mixing in his tone.

"No."

"Then why should I give you something you want," Doug stared, knowing full-well that this wasn't going to work. But he still felt the need to try. "If I don't get what I want in return," he added slowly.

The man laughed coldly, the emotionless decibels of noise echoing throughout the small room. Doug looked towards Tom and saw that he had hunched his shoulders up and was still staring vacantly at the floor. Doug knew he did that whenever he was stressed or scared, and he figured the younger man was probably both of those right now.

"Because," the man's voice came again, icy and laced with anger, "If you don't, I could easily kill Tommy here. And I don't think you want me to do that, do you?"

Doug cursed himself silently, wishing he had never spoken Tom's name aloud. He hated how the man spoke it with no emotion, in a tone laced with nothing. And then he sighed, because he knew the man was right. He didn't really have any choice. Without saying anything, Doug did as the man wanted, and watched as the gun slid across the wooden floor, coming to rest just a foot short of Tom's feet. Doug had hoped this would happen.

If the man really wanted the gun, he would have to lean down to grab it. And if he leaned down, his grip on Tom would probably loosen. And a loose grip was all that Doug would need.


	6. chapter 6

**Oh, swearing in this chap so yeah... Don't sue me or anything, lol**

_LilaGrace: No problem, and thanks XD And yes, I asked hanson's Hot - that ep is season 4's Awomp-Bomp-Aloobomb, Aloop Bamboom (gah that's confusing to type, lol) It's okay, being weird is a good thing... Ah yeah, I'll remember random scenes from tv shows too and go crazy trying to figure out what it's from (actually I did that trying to figure out this scene for you, lol, because I remembered it after reading it but couldn't remember it, lol)_

I own nothing.

* * *

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, Doug thought, as the man tried to lean over and reach for the gun. But the grip he had on the younger man prevented him from doing that much so instead of giving up and just forgetting about the gun, he actually attempted to readjust his grip on Tom. Doug thought this was a stupid move, and would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious. And then there was the fact that the 'stupid move' would allow Tom a chance at breaking free. Obviously the man had lost any train of thought as he became more impatient with Doug just standing there, ruining all of his plans. Luckily Tom was still thinking straight, though.

The man leaned over slowly, his arm still snaked around Tom's neck, attempting to reach the gun that lay only a foot away. Except he couldn't because Tom's body was in the way. He would either have to just leave the gun where it is was, or reposition the grip he held on the younger man. He needed the gun, however, and went with the latter option. He pulled his arm away from around Tom's neck, planning on quickly grabbing an arm instead so his access to the gun would be available. As soon as he did, though, Tom jerked away, trying to get himself as far away from the older man as possible. In doing so, he forgot all about the gun. Luckily the man did too.

"Tom!" Doug yelled at the younger man, "Just run damn it!" He knew it was pretty stupid advice, but it was all he could think of to say. If Tom ran, then the man would follow. And when that happened, Doug would be able to grab the gun and gain full control of the situation.

Tom ran. It was the only thing he could do. He could see the man watching him, surprised, yet he didn't advance. Tom didn't care, though, he just ran.

The room was small. Tom didn't know where to go. If he went for the door, the man could stop following him and go after Doug instead. If he ran to Doug, then any plans the other officer had planned would be screwed. So he ran towards the bed, jumped onto it, and watched as the man tried to follow. However, the man stopped, confused by what the younger man had done. Then he went into action again, lunging at Tom like a fish jumping out of a lake. As he did so, Tom jumped out of reach, falling heavily to the floor, landing painfully on his left shoulder. A 'pop' came with the crash, mixing in with the creaks of the man landing on the old bed and Doug's frantic shouting.

"Tom! Grab the gun!"

Tom groaned, trying to remember what gun Doug was talking about. After looking straight ahead, though, he realized exactly what the other officer was talking about. The police-issued firearm lay very close, only a few feet away. He could hear the man cursing behind him as he tried to climb off of the now broken bed and Doug's heavy footfalls as he walked hurriedly towards his partner. Tom reached for the gun, moaning as pain shot his arm like the flame on a dynamite's fuse. His hand was was a finger's length away when his whole arm collapsed, falling to the floor with a heavy thud. And that wasn't even in his injured arm.

"Tom!" came Doug's voice again, laced with panic and confusion. Why had Tom's hand stopped moving? Why wasn't Tom moving?

"Damn it," Doug cursed, casting a quick glance towards the fumbling idiot on the bed. The mattress had collapsed inside the frame and the man had collapsed inside that whole mess, his limbs tangled in with the sheets. The anger that coursed through him proved to slow down his progress in escaping and Doug laughed slightly; if the man would just calm down for two seconds and think, he would be free within another two seconds. But he didn't, and Doug was glad. He didn't the need the bastard messing things up even more than they already were.

"Tommy, you okay?" Doug asked as he crouched down beside the fallen man, grabbing the gun as he did so.

"Yeah," Tom mumbled. "Sorry 'bout the gun, my arm stopped working."

"Yeah I saw that," Doug replied with a smile. "Look, I'm gonna cuff this idiot to the bed and then we can go find back-up, okay?"

"Mhm," Tom mumbled, not quite focused in on reality. He was tired and an extremely sharp pain kept forming in his shoulder and shooting down the length of his arm to his fingertips.

"Okay, just, uh, stay here, okay?" Doug replied, thinking how stupid that sounded. Where exactly was Tom going to go?

"Yeah, I'll try," Tom replied sarcastically, trying to laugh. It came out as a shallow moan instead.

"Yeah..." Doug stood, making sure he had the gun ready and raised as he approached the figure on the bed, still cursing but finally free of the sheets.

"Don't even think about tryin' anything stupid," Doug warned as he pulled a pair of cuffs out of an inside pocket of his jacket.

"Yeah, whatever," the man spat viciously, casting a sideways glance at Tom. "Too bad I didn't get a chance with your friend, though, it woul-"

Doug hit the man sharply across the face, cutting him off abruptly. "Oops," he muttered. "Sorry 'bout that - I was reachin' for your arm."

"Yeah," the man hissed, glaring angrily at Doug.

"Just shut up and save us all the headache," Doug muttered, grabbing the man's arm roughly and pulling him towards the headboard. Now the man sat awkwardly with his legs hung over the side of the metal frame, the rest of his body sloping down with the mattress. It was in this position that Doug chose to (tightly) handcuff the man's left arm to the headboard.

"We'll be back soon," Doug muttered, "So don't get too comfortable."

The man muttered something incoherent and Doug turned away, not really caring about anything the man had to say.

"Alright Tom, let's get outta here, huh?"

"Yeah," Tom replied shakily, trying to sit up. Instead he fell back to the floor heavily, hissing a loud 'fuck' as he jarred his injured shoulder painfully. "Think I need help," he muttered, laughing slightly.

"Oh," was all Doug said before crouching down beside Tom again. "Uh, here, I'll, uh, grab your other arm, and pull you up, okay?"

"Yeah that'll work," Tom replied weakly, feeling very nauseous as pain shot through his shoulder and arm every other second, sharp and very much there.

Doug wrapped an arm around Tom's waist as he pulled his uninjured arm around his neck, making it easier on both of the officers to get the youngest to his feet without either crashing back to the floor. Once Tom was on his feet, Doug released his grip, watching carefully in case Tom were to fall down. He didn't.

"Can you walk alright?" Doug asked, watching as Tom breathed in and out heavily, a slight tremor wracking his body and causing him to shake.

"Yeah, course I can," Tom replied, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Right, just making sure."

"Yeah..." Tom trailed off, starting slowly for the door, wanting to just leave this place and go home. But first they needed to get back-up, and then he would probably be questioned and... And he wasn't going to be going home for a _very_ long time. The young officer sighed deeply with annoyance and pulled the door open quickly, wood smacking against wood and creating a hollow 'thwack'. Without glancing behind him to see if his partner was following, he hurried down the stairs as fast as he could go without tripping. The pain in his shoulder seemed to increase with every step, but he just ignored it, knowing it was all a very (annoying) part of his imagination.

Doug stared after Tom, watching as he disappeared through the door frame hurriedly, and then listened to the quick footsteps as they slowly faded away. He would follow soon enough, he just had to check one thing first.

"Where's your wallet?" Doug asked harshly, staring down hard at the man on the bed, knowing full-well that if looks could kill, then the bastard would be dead. Or maybe he would have been dead earlier.

"Why do you need that?" the man asked, vehemence strongly evident in his tone. He kept his own gaze locked on the handcuffs that joined his right arm and the bedpost together like conjoined twins.

"Because I need to know who the Hell you are," Doug hissed, wanting to find out as soon as possible.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Yeah, that's all," Doug snapped, gripping the front of the man's shirt tightly and pulling him as far as the handcuffs would allow, bringing his face the remaining few inches so that his nose was just barely touching the man's own.

"Oh," the man replied, gulping slightly, fear dancing in his eyes like waves crashing against the side of a cliff.

"Yeah, oh," Doug spat. "Now where the Hell is it?"

"This is police hara-"

"You refused to give me what I wanted so I had to use force," Doug replied, quickly cutting off what the man was about to say. "Besides man, you tried to _rape _my partner; they wouldn't care even if I killed you."

The man opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead he sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Finally he muttered breathlessly, "Then do it."

"What?" Doug asked, only slightly confused.

"Kill me then," the man replied, all confidence firmly back in place, his tone laced with it and pure hatred. And Doug knew he was being serious.

"I'm not killing you," Doug spat. "I want you alive so you'll suffer in jail. If you die, then you get off easy. And there's no way you're getting off _that _easy considering what you just did to my partner, what you were planning on doing to my _best friend_."

Doug thrust the man backwards forcibly, causing his head to snap back like a Jack in the Box, creating a sharp 'crack' as it hit the solid wall heavily.

"Fucking pig," Doug spat viciously as he began searching through the clothing of the now dazed and half-conscious man, smiling in relief as his hand found its target in the back pocket of the man's pants. He pulled the leather wallet free, and with one last disgusted look at the man, Doug turned and left the room, now ready to meet up with Tom downstairs.

TBC...


	7. chapter 7

_Review replies: LilaGrace: No problem XD Awesome ep, by the way... Yup... And he might get hurt again... Oops, did I type that? Yup, I agree XD_

_rubydoo: Lol... Thanks, me too XD You're welcome XD Glad you like it XD_

**I own nothing... **

* * *

"Tom?" Doug called out as he descended the wooden staircase, gripping the railing tightly as yet another board creaked and moved underneath his feet. "Tom, you still here?" 

"Yeah, just waiting for you," Tom replied, his voice quiet and low. Emotionless.

"Sorry 'bout that," Doug answered as he stepped onto the cement ground and thanked God for its solidity. "Just had to get that guy's name."

"Oh," Tom mumbled, chewing on his bottom lip. He was sitting in one of the shabby chairs, the cheap material fraying and hanging loosely off of the corners, his injured arm pulled tightly against his chest in protection. "Did you get it?" he added, looking up at Doug, his curiosity peaked. Of course he would want to know the name of the bastard who had just tried to kill himself and his best friend.

"Nope," Doug replied. "I got his wallet, though, so I'll know it soon enough." Doug waved the wallet through the air as he said this and Tom smiled weakly. _Soon enough..._ Not as soon as he had thought, he realized, when Doug shoved the leather wallet into the pocket of his coat, hiding it and any unanswered questions inside the worn material. Tom sighed; he didn't really care about the man upstairs, but he felt inclined to at least know his name.

"Yeah." Tom stood now, swaying slightly as a wave of nausea passed through him, causing his head to spin and his vision to blur. It passed almost as quickly as it had come and he shook his head to rid his mind of any remaining uneasiness.

"You okay?" Doug's concerned voice broke in, stopping Tom in his head-shaking actions.

"Uh-huh," Hanson mumbled. "Arm just hurts. Well, my shoulder. Ah, I don't know, but my whole fuckin' arm hurts."

Doug wasn't sure if Tom was playing around or if he was angry so he just let the comment fade away like a morning fog.

"Where's Ioki? Hoffs?" Tom questioned suddenly, looking at his partner suspiciously. "Isn't this Ioki's end of town too? And Booker's?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I couldn't find them," Doug replied nervously. He had never actually looked for the other two officers, just noticed that they weren't where he needed them to be.

"Okay," Tom muttered, not quite believing the other man. "What about Hoffs? She was working with you, right? Shouldn't she be here as well?"

"No," Doug answered slowly. "I was supposed to be meeting you, remember? But then you weren't there. So I looked for you."

"Oh, right," the younger man agreed. "Yeah, I forgot. Sorry. But Booker and Ioki shoulda been somewhere down there, and you shoulda brought 'em with you."

"Well I was worried about you," Doug replied with a slight chuckle. "I mean, you're my partner, and when you didn't show up, I got worried."

"Oh..." Tom mumbled, trailing off and averting his gaze towards the floor.

"C'mon Tommy, you _always _show up. And you're almost never late. I had a reason to be worried." Doug laughed again, and Tom smiled. Doug was right, and he _had_ made a pretty good point.

"Speaking of," Doug spoke up, cutting through his own bout of joy with a sudden jolt of seriousness. "I'm still worried about you; I think that idiot dislocated your shoulder."

"Which idiot?" Tom questioned. "I'm the one who dived offa the bed, remember?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't of even been up there if weren't for that _idiot _upstairs, so..."

"Alright, alright," Hanson muttered. "I get it. Can we just go? My fucking arm hurts."

"As you've already stated," Penhall replied with a smirk, turning towards the door and walking that way. "Alright," he agreed, reaching for the metal knob and letting his hand rest on it gently. "Let's go get some back-up in here to haul that 'idiot's' ass outta here then we can get you to the hospital."

"Will I get a sucker?" tom asked, jutting out his lower lip like a small child who wanted candy. Except Tom was not a small child and he shouldn't have been able to do that look so well. Especially since all he wanted was a sucker.

"Are you serious?" Doug asked, pulling open the wooden door and holding it against the wall so Tom could get outside without jarring his arm and injuring himself any further.

"Course I'm serious, Doug. I wanna sucker," Tom replied harshly, smiling slightly although he was trying to hide it. He wanted to be taken seriously because if he wasn't then he would never get a sucker.

Harsh wind whipped against Doug's face as he stepped outside and he shivered slightly against the sudden cold. It hadn't been heated inside, but at least it had been warmer than out here. It wasn't even that cold outside, it was mostly just the wind. However, the sudden temperature change had triggered something in Doug's mind and he had reacted by shivering.

"Fine, you can get a sucker. Happy?" Doug spoke up, falling prey to Tom's pout. He usually did and Tom had known it well.

"It's cold out here," Tom replied, completely ignoring Doug's statement. He would have rubbed his hands together but knew that that action would most likely cause pain.

"You want my coat?" Doug offered. He only felt cold when the wind whipped against his bare skin, and besides, he had a sweater on underneath it. He knew he could survive without his coat. Tom on the other hand was shivering under his layers and the wind wasn't even whipping against them anymore.

"Naw, you need it," Tom muttered, trying to blow warm air onto his hands. The warmth only stayed for a few seconds, however, and warming up his fingertips didn't do much at helping out the rest of his body.

"Actually I don't," Doug replied, stopping as Tom once again attempted to warm up, this time blowing the air into his cupped hands instead. "Damn it," he muttered, shivering again as the wind picked up speed and whipped at his face and bare hands harsher than before. "And of course you need your coat, Doug - ya ain't a freaking polar bear."

"No, I'm not that cold. And my skin's thicker than yours, so you feel colder 'cause you're so damn skinny."

"Yeah nice try," Tom muttered harshly, not believing Doug. What he had said hadn't even made since. "You're not getting a damn cold because I'm too thin to-" Tom stopped as something heavy was draped over his shoulders and he looked at Doug, bewilderment in his eyes. "Doug, I don't need your coat."

"You're shivering like crazy, man. If anybody was gonna catch a cold it was you. Now just wear the damn thing and let's go."

"Fine," Tom said, sighing dramatically and grinning stupidly before looking at Doug, his facial features suddenly serious. "But I'm only wearing it to shut you up. You talk once more about my health, I swear this jacket goes in the garbage."

Tom pulled on the worn jacket, carefully pulling it over his injured arm and wincing as he stretched his arm too far and pulled at the wounded shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not Doug would care if he threw it out. He had never seen Doug wear the trench coat except for on cases and figured that it probably wasn't really that important. That meant tossing it in the trash would result in Doug's coat in the garbage and nothing else. Well, at least he had tried, and maybe Doug would shut up anyways.

"Whatever," Doug replied, "Don't care about it that much," he added with a grin, confirming Tom's thoughts. They continued walking down the street, back the way Doug had previously come from, with the hopes of finding Booker and Ioki where they should be.

"So you didn't see them earlier?"

"Nope; I went to that video store and didn't see you, and they weren't around there, either."

"They didn't hang out there," Tom replied. "They were just down the street, about a block away."

"You were out here alone?" Doug asked in a tone that made Tom feel guilty. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything...

"Uh, yeah..." Tom mumbled, trailing off slowly and refusing to look at the other man.

"Why the Hell would you do that?" Doug chastised, anger evident in his tone. He knew Tom; he knew that the younger man would never do something as stupid as that. Except that he had.

"Because you and Hoffs were already together, and Booker and Ioki were-"

Doug quickly Tom off, not caring too much about his explanation, "You coulda hung with me and Hoffs, or Booker and Ioki. Why the Hell would you come out here alone?"

"I-I'm sorry," Tom replied, starting to walk away. He didn't care for what Doug had to say, knowing full well that he would get the same form of rant from Fuller once he found out what had happened. And he was only intent on hearing it once. With Doug he had a choice at listening; Fuller would tie him to a chair if he had to to make him listen.

"Tom! Aw, c'mon!" Penhall yelled. He hadn't meant to push Tom away; all he wanted was a reason for his actions. "Damn it Hanson," he muttered angrily, setting off at a run to catch up with the younger man who had, surprisingly, already made it across the street. And he continued to walk away, ignoring the distressed man running after him and calling his name.

"Damn it Hanson," Doug repeated, slowing down to catch his breath. He hoped the younger man was going to look for Dennis and Harry, because at least then Doug would have a general idea of where to find him. Because there was no way he was leaving Tom out here alone; not after what had happened last time Tom had been.

Shaking his head angrily, Penhall set off at a quickened pace, opting to walk fast instead of running this time; it would take longer but at least he wouldn't have to stop to catch his breath every five minutes.

Tom walked fast, trying to get as far away from Doug as possible. He knew he should be staying with the other man, but at the moment he just wanted to be alone. He heard Doug calling out at him and he sighed angrily; why couldn't Doug just leave him alone? All he wanted right now was a friend but instead the only friend he had felt intent on lecturing him. And he didn't want that. He hurried across the street, jumping at the car horn that sounded too close for comfort. He waved at the car in apology and decided to run the rest of the way across the street. At least now it would take awhile for Doug to catch up with him. Knowing that they both, whether separated or not, needed to find Dennis and Harry, Tom set off in that direction; it wasn't that hard, considering he just had to keep going straight. Once he found them, he could quickly fill them in and wait for Doug. He figured he would have blown off enough steam by then. Until then, he planned on keeping as far away from his partner as possible.


	8. chapter 8

_**LilaGrace: hmm, what sucker? I don't remember that, lol... Something bad? No, never, not in a million years! Thanks XD**_

_**rubydoo: Thanks XD Lol, yes, he should, and yes, Doug does... Your welcome XD**_

_**update: Thanks XD Lol, sorry, a little late, and oh, I'm not sure, hopefully though**_

I still own nothing

* * *

Doug cursed once he realized that Tom had disappeared, because he had been there only a few minutes ago. But then he had been gone, like a magician during a magic show. And if Tom was out in the streets by himself, any number of things could happen to him. Doug didn't want that, though, because he had rescued Tom with the intention of keeping him safe and out of harm's way. Except now the possibility of that happening had slowly diminished, because if Tom wasn't there, than Doug couldn't keep an eye on him. And he knew that if he didn't catch up with Tom soon, then he could end up hurt... or worse. And Doug wanted to keep Tom alive. Because if Tom Hanson wound up dead, then Doug would never be able to forgive himself.

Because people should never end up dead while somebody else was in the process of preventing that. Especially not when that person was your closest friend.

"Yo Harry!"

Harry Ioki turned towards the person beckoning him, a look of hopeful curiosity etched into his features like a rough sketch. "You find him?" he asked in a tone that matched the formerly-stated facial features.

"Not yet," Dennis replied quickly, worry in his tone. He knew what could happen to somebody out in the streets by themselves, and it wasn't a good thing, like winning the lottery. It was more like what had happened to Aaron: disappearing without a trace, and most likely turning up dead. "Where the hell could he have gone?" Booker continued, anger seeping into his tone. Tom was a fellow cop, and a damn good one at that – he would never leave without telling somebody where he was headed.

"I don't know," Ioki replied quickly. "That's why we're lookin', remember?"

"I know that," Dennis snapped, agitation evident in his voice. "But he was just at that store, what, ten minutes ago? Not even that. There isn't really any-"

"He coulda been picked up," Harry interrupted slowly.

"Picked up?" Booker repeated doubtfully. "C'mon Harry, I was only gone a minute. If he went, I woulda seen something."

"Yeah, but our guy, he's quick, isn't he? He pulls up to the curb, and is gone within seconds with whoever gets into the car first. Tom coulda been in it within ten seconds, then they woulda been driving away maybe twenty seconds before you got back. There's no way you coulda seen something then."

"Yeah, okay, that's true," Dennis agreed. "But that's only if Tom got picked up. Which makes since, though, 'cause if he hadda seen the car, he coulda made sure he was right at the curb and ready to hop in before anyone else could. He really wanted to catch this guy, Har. I mean, he was right there watching all day, and got pretty mad when I told him we lost him." Booker stopped explaining and Harry began nodding his head slowly, agreeing completely. It did make a lot of sense, and it was a pretty good explanation as to why Tom had just disappeared. "Plus," Dennis spoke up, "Even if the guy had wanted to second-guess any of his victims, he wouldn't of had to look twice at Tommy-boy, right? I mean, that would be a pretty quick deal, in and... in."

"In and in?" Harry questioned. "Isn't it in and out?"

"Well yeah, but Tom got _in_to the car, right?"

"Oh yeah. But hey," Ioki stopped and laughed slightly. "What you said about not looking twice at Tom, were you saying that-"

"What, no way, man," Booker cut in quickly, shaking his head. "God no. It's just kinda obvious, ya know?"

"Uh-huh," Harry replied, not believing Dennis. "Obvious that you like Tom, right?"

"No," Booker replied harshly. "I just meant that Tom has one of those faces."

"I was only joking," Harry replied. "Besides, you are right, Tom does have one of those faces. How do you think he got into Jump Street?"

"Right," Booker replied. "Ya know, if Tom was picked up..." Booker trailed off, waving his hands in the air. "I mean, he's been gone an hour now. It shouldn't take that long."

"Maybe he had to wait for back-up?" Harry suggested. "I mean, he couldn't have just left the guy there alone, could he have?"

"If he wanted to, but Tom's not that kinda guy," Booker responded, his voice low. "Yeah, so he's probably stuck in some motel room with the guy handcuffed to something," he added, a small smile forming. "And this guy's probably cursin' the hell outta Tommy. Yup, and poor Tommy's stuck there." Dennis began laughing slightly and Harry groaned. "Yeah, 'cause that's so funny, right?"

Dennis stopped laughing and looked at Harry as if he had never seen him before. "C'mon, I was just tryin' to lighten the mood. Tom's probably fine, anyways. And he'll be back any second, ready to tell us all about how he went super-cop and tackled the guy to the ground, handcuffing him to the bedpost or somethin' before he could fight back."

"Right," Ioki replied shortly. "He probably could too, if the guy pissed him off."

"You seen Tommy-boy in action, then?" Booker asked, light sarcasm in his voice. He didn't doubt that Tom could do that to somebody, having had first-hand experience with the other cop's anger, he just found the situation that he had described amusing. And he found it even more amusing that he could find somebody who could confirm that Tom was capable of doing just that.

"You kiddin' me?" Ioki asked, laughing. "You heard about what he did to that Hammer kid."

"Oh yeah," Booker replied slowly. "Yeah, he's got some anger issues, alright. And he was already pissed at this creep."

"Uh-huh. There's no way he's goin' down without fight."

"Nope. Look, let's just keep lookin, though," Booker suggested. "He could just be wondering the streets, right?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "And the sooner we find him, the better."

Tom pulled Doug's jacket tightly around his slim frame, relishing in the slight warmth it gave him. He had tried zipping the jacket up in the hopes of gaining better warmth, but it had only created gaps in the neck, enabling the harsh wind to shoot down inside and make him even colder. When he had it pulled around him, he had at least been able to lessen the size of those gaps, keeping out as much wind as he could. He had been able to pull one flap inside the other, actually, and found that this gave his neck more coverage and protection against the harsh cold of the night. The only problem was that to keep it shut he had to cross his arms together, jarring his injured shoulder in the process. It had hurt but as he had started walking, the pain had slowed to a small tap-tap type of pain, and he figured that he either had to live with that, or with the wind tearing through his shirt as the jacket hung uselessly on him. Although he still felt slightly cold, a majority of his body was gaining heat, and he felt fine except for the shakes that seemed to attack him. He wasn't sure what was causing them, so had decided to blame them on the weather. It was better thinking that than thinking that he could be getting sick. He had been doing a good job, too, until the first gush of wind struck him, worsening the shakes and bringing his body to a full stop. He couldn't walk when he was shaking that bad, and decided to stick it out in a standing position until the wind had died down. Once it did, he was off again, this time at a quicker pace, determined to make it to Booker, Ioki, and warmth as fast as he could. He started laughing as well, because of his earlier protests against Doug's jacket - he was definitely thankful for it now. _If Doug were here too..._

Tom began shaking his head slowly, vanquishing the thought. He didn't need Doug. He was on his way to meeting up with officers, and then Doug would follow shortly. Until then, though, he would be perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He was a police officer, after all.

Doug hurried across the street, glaring angrily at the traffic pulling away from him in the distance. He needed to find Tom, and the ongoing rush of passing vehicles had done nothing to help him out. He hadn't expected them too, but had been hoping they would. If anything, the traffic seemed to have picked up as he had first attempted to cross the street, and then it had taken him nearly five minutes to complete the task. And that didn't include stopping every five seconds to dodge one of the road maniacs barreling towards him. Okay, so maybe the drivers weren't the idiots, because Doug _was _the one trying to play chicken on a very busy street. Except at the moment he didn't care, and found it easier to blame the drivers for his problems instead of himself. Which was why he glared at the vehicles as they slowly disappeared in the distance, hating them for slowing him down. Now, though, he was finally on the other side of the street, which meant no more vehicular distractions slowing him down. Now all he had to was continue walking straight, and soon enough he would find Tom. Or at least that's what he was hoping was going to happen. If it didn't then...

Doug shook his head once, not wanting to think about what could happen to the younger man if he didn't find him soon enough. He started walking in the direction Tom had gone off in several minutes earlier, instead trying to focus his thoughts on where the hell he was going to live after he was done with the case. The way things were going, he'd be stuck right back where he was: wandering the streets in the middle of the night. Because right now he didn't have time to worry about any 'ifs'; if there any, he would just have to deal with them when they came to him. Until then he was dead set on finding Tom before any of those ifs were able to come into play, because he didn't have time for anything else.

Tom grabbed at the collar of his jacket, trying to pull it up and cover more of his neck. The wind was becoming harsher as the night grew colder and he was starting to lose feeling in the skin not covered by the jacket. Except he couldn't hold the jacket shut while trying to hold the collar up because he only had two arms, one of which had electric jolts of pain shoot through it every time it was moved. He realized that he would just have to zip up the jacket anyways, and deal with any of the cold that pushed through the gaps. At least having the collar up against his neck would help in diminishing the gaps that were there. Maybe then he would make it to Dennis and Harry without turning into a Tom Hanson ice sculpture first. He wasn't _that_ good of a cop. Deciding that getting to his destination as fast he could was the best thing to do at the moment would help in preventing this, he quickened his pace. His feet pounded shallowly against the concrete as his strides lengthened, his legs stretching out in front of him as far as his body allowed, feet joining in the rhythm, back and forth, back and forth. He found himself going faster, which also helped in adding heat to his body. He smiled at this, even though his face felt raw and numb. At least the rest of him wasn't turning into an icicle.

Tom yelped suddenly as his foot collided with an unnoticed blockade, causing him to go spiraling to the pavement. He landed heavily, pain automatically starting up, as if on cue, and shooting throughout his arm like wildfire. He moaned slightly at this as he glanced up to see what or who he had tripped over. He suddenly wished e hadn't as he found himself staring into the hard gaze of a very aggressive and rugged looking teenager.


	9. chapter 9

_so i've finally got the next chapter... sorry for the late update, but life's just been pretty erm hectic, terrible, busy, all terms that turn this into a fairly lame excuse but meh whatever..._

"Sorry," Tom muttered quietly as he began turning away, a sharp pain shooting throughout his knee where it had hit pavement. At least he hadn't injured his shoulder any more than it had been, and now all that was left was a dulling pain leftover from the fall. The look the boy was currently giving him had seemed to not only bore into him, but through him as well. That wasn't the kind of look you needed directed towards you, and for Tom, alone and with an injury that left one arm useless, making _him _in the entirety close to useless if this teenager tried to start something. Tom had a bad feeling inside his gut, twisting and swirling around like a whirlpool signaling to him that this boy _was _going to start something. He only wished that this feeling that had never before been wrong would be false this time. He doubted it, but there was no harm in hoping for the better instead of the worse.

"I don't care that you're sorry," the teenager hissed bitterly, fear and worry flooding into Tom's mind like a hammer pounding a nail into the wall.. "Now look at me," the boy continued, voice calmer but still full with as much hate and anger as a raging bull set loose in a rodeo. "You ain't got nothin' to be scared of."

Tom laughed lowly, the noise barely audible, and then muttered something low and incoherent. He returned his gaze to the face of the teenager, staring hard, his gaze and features set just as hard, just as aggressive. Tom was fully aware now that this boy meant business and he was planning on fighting back as best as he could – he wasn't in the mood to mess with a bunch of kids who thought they owned the street because they were tough. Tom blinked quickly as the term 'kids' floated throughout his mind, the teenager before him blurring as his sight settled upon a group of at least four more teen-aged boys behind the one who had spoken, waiting and watching, like a predator teaching its young how to attack the prey. Except this time Tom wasn't going to be the prey.

"Well?" Tom spoke up after a long pause of tense silence. "You got somethin' to say," he slowed down as he spoke, voice hardening as he laid out his words with as much hate as he could to show he meant not to mess around, but that he meant business just as much as the kid stood in front of him.

"Yeah, 'course I do," the kid spoke up, not caring that Tom had shown definite thought on continuing. Because he was tough, and the street belonged to him. Not to this newcomer that stood in front of him trying to act out his toughness as well as a five year old standing up for a stolen toy. He laughed lightly, then allowed his gaze to harden once more, glaring down at Tom. "I wouldn't 'a tripped ya if I didn't, right?"

Tom's anger reached it's peak, boiling to the top like water in a tea kettle. He moved fast, arms outstretched in front of him, and went full-force into the teen's stomach, crashing hard and toppling both of them to the ground. He raised his arm up and let go a blow to the boy's face, striking him clean across the jaw heavily. He watched the boy's face clench in pain and sent another fist inwards, hitting his target once more. He didn't care that he was a police officer attacking a teenager, either, because he was mad and that anger had decided to cloud all of his judgment, or what little of it he had left. A searing pain went through his injured shoulder and shot down his arm like a bullet flying through the air and he let out a small moan before pushing the thoughts of pain away. He still had business to attend to. He was ready to throw another punch when his arm was grabbed in mid-swing, pulling him backwards sharply and to the ground heavily. His back struck pavement, injured shoulder jarring. He let out a small scream at this pain, trying to blink away the tears in his eyes. He saw the blurred figures of three teens, all heading his way, and he knew he had messed up. He had gone into the fight alone, forgetting all about the boy's friends, and now they were after him because he had attacked one of their own. He went to stand but a kick to his side had him back on the ground, and he instantly pulled his injured arm in towards his chest protectively. A yell and then another kick, this one to the stomach. He groaned lightly but refused to let the pain overcome him. He had to stay strong and try to fight back or else he may very well witness his last breath right where he was, cold air whipping against him, hard pavement below him. There was one more kick and then a yell for it to stop.

"Doug?" Tom whispered hoarsely, thinking that the only person who could be coming to his rescue would be his best friend. He blinked away wetness, feeling the stickiness below his eyelids and looked upwards. It wasn't Doug, though.

"Oh come on, ain't you gonna fight back?" The teen Tom had fought to the ground was back into action, which, Tom realized, made sense: the kid did live on the streets – a few sucker punches wouldn't do much in holding him down.

"Fuck off," Tom spat, using his good arm to push himself up into a sitting position. Breathing hurt a little and just sitting up had taken a lot out of him.

"I believe you're the one who started this little fight," one of the others finally spoke. Tom looked to him and noticed he didn't really look as tough as he seemed. He was pretty skinny, although all five of the teens were -- something easily gained while living outside -- and although his clothes were torn and dirt-covered, his face reflected innocence, as if the child-like spark in him had been lost amongst the crime and abuse that came with street life. And Tom actually felt for sorry for him, for _all_ of them. Because they didn't deserve to live like this -- and when all they had been trying to do was protect themselves, Tom had lashed out at one, all sense gone. He had acted just like them, allowing violence to overtake him, thinking it was the only way out.

"I'm sorry," Tom whispered. "I mean, I don't know what I was thinking..." Tom pushed himself up off of the ground to a standing position, swaying slightly. He saw a flicker of confusion pass through the eyes of the teenager he had punched, then it was gone, easily replaced by hate. "You're sorry?" he scoffed. "You fucking punch me and now you're sorry? What, you couldn't take a few kicks and think one little apology will get you outta the rest?"

"No," Tom replied, knowing the boy was right. But he was sorry. "I just wanted to say sorry because I hit you."

"Yeah, but I tripped you," the boy replied, as if proud. "So maybe you had the right to hit me? I mean, you sure seemed like you did. But now, did I actually say I tripped you on purpose?"

"I..." Tom stopped, voice faltering, his gaze averted away from the teens. "Ah fuck," he muttered.

"Yeah, ah fuck is right," the teen snarled. Tom had no chance to look up before he was being pushed into the wall behind him, the teen easily throwing his weight against the officer's. "I did mean it," he hissed. "Because I wanted you down while we robbed your ass. A lot easier, but you had to get up and ruin our fun."

"Oh jeez, trying to rob me?" Tom replied sarcastically. "Go ahead, take the wallet. Nothin' in it though, considering I just got booted out yesterday and have yet to find any means of getting money."

Although Tom had excepted it, the punch came suddenly, stinging the side of his face as the boy's fist smashed into it, a smack of skin against skin resounding hollowly in his ear.

"Yeah, with a face like that I bet you've gotten nothing," the boy snapped. "Now empty your damn pockets or else we do something worse than a few kicks and punches."

"Don't got no pockets," Tom replied, all feelings of remorse and guilt for this teenager gone. Because no amount of street could turn a kid this angry, this aggressive, without the help of his own thoughts and decisions to pave the cement sidewalk leading into the life he had chosen for himself. It was like The Wizard of OZ, but instead of a yellow brick road leading to a magical land it was a grimy, dirt-covered sidewalk, as dull and gray as the world in the eye's of its occupants leading to a world full of pain and despair. There was no magical witch to carry you back home safe and sound at the end of the journey, either.

"Don't fuck with me," the teen spat, pushing Tom into the wall roughly. "Now just play nice and we will too, got it?"

Tom spat, all thoughts jumbled, his thinking incoherent because he knew if he had been thinking properly he never would have spit into the face of the person holding him against a wall. There was another punch, this one splitting Tom's lower lip open freely like a crack in an antique dish.

"Oh, just look in my fucking pockets, already," Tom mumbled lightly, out of breath. "You won't find nothin' though."

"Yeah, we'll see," the boy holding Tom hissed, hand easily pushing inside the dark denim. Nothing. Another search in the other park revealed the same prize.

"Real funny," he muttered, fist colliding with Tom's cheekbone solidly, a dull crack echoing around them silently. Tom was expecting another hit, wondering the whole time where Doug was, hell, where was anybody? There had to be somebody who was watching his torment, or was it just such a normal happening out here that people had soon chosen to ignore it? He knew the latter was true, having witnessed it for the past week now, yet he still had hope that somebody – _doug_ – would help him. Then the fierce grip on his shoulders was gone. The teenager had let go and Tom was thinking that they were going to kill him, to finish what they started. They didn't though, and he sunk down to the ground slowly as the boys fled like bats into the night, their footsteps slowly fading away. When they were finally gone Tom let out a sigh of relief, eyelids drooping heavily. He was tired, really tired, and now seemed as good a time as any to sleep. Before he drifted into full unconsciousness he let only three words escape his battered mouth, blood dripping in tiny drops onto his shirt as he spoke: "Doug, please help..."


	10. chapter 10

**alright, kinda short, but its kinda just filler about doug and tom and yeah... and no no no I am not killing tom...**

Doug headed down the street fairly quickly, growing even more worried now that Tom had completely disappeared. Doug hadn't seen him, or at least seen his retreating back in over ten minutes and he was beginning to wonder where the younger man had gone and how he had disappeared so quickly and easily. It wasn't that Doug didn't trust Tom out there, it was that he didn't trust anybody else out there while Tom was off wandering by himself in the mood he was in. Considering how angry Tom had been, though, Doug was beginning to wonder whether it should be Tom he had to worry about, or if it was any person or persons who should happen to cross Tom's path at a bad angle like a black cat wandering in front of an unknowing passerby and causing them bad luck – except Tom would be the cat, and his anger would be the bad luck being forcing upon the passerby.

Doug stopped quickly, letting out a small moan as he found himself, or rather, his left foot, only inches away from a body – whether the person was dead or alive, he couldn't tell but what mattered was that he had just nearly stepped on it. Or him, Doug realized as he looked closer. "Uh, hello," he called out, kneeling down to get a better look. He looked to be in his forty's, but knowing what street life did to your body, Doug couldn't be entirely sure that the man was actually that old or maybe even younger. He tapped the man on the shoulder lightly, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest and then laughed lightly because this guy had fallen asleep – or passed out – right in the middle of the sidewalk. There was an empty liquor bottle beside the man's right forearm and Doug tapped harder, knowing that the man had probably passed out drunk – and he knew all too well how hard it was to wake up a person who had fallen unconscious due to alcohol. This time the man moved, eyes blinking quickly, and then Doug found himself staring into dull, unlit stars of green, all light faded and gone from the man's eyes. _Musta had a hard life_ Doug thought sadly, feeling immediately sorry for the man he had just awoken.

"I, uh, you were sleeping," Doug muttered sheepishly, slightly ashamed because of the confused, scared look the man was giving him. "I almost tripped over you, so I just wanted to see you were okay."

"Oh," the man whispered, pulling himself up so that he was now sitting and at eye-level with the young officer. "Thanks. Guess I fell asleep, huh?"

"Yeah. Next time maybe find a bed or somethin', right?" Doug replied lightly, smiling. "Sidewalk can't be that comfortable." Without a second thought, Doug reached into his pocket and pulled out the latest payment he had gained from a bust and pushed them into the man's palm. "Here, you look like you could use it." Then he stood before the man could reply and was hurrying away, not wanting to have the money handed back to him, when the man called out a quick, "thank you!" Doug smiled, hoping he could help Tom out as much as he had just helped that man, and that he hadn't gotten himself into to much trouble by the time caught up with him.

--

Tom woke up slowly, a fuzzy fog drifting throughout his mind as he blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning as pain came with his consciousness. Then he heard a voice, and it sounded a lot like it was speaking his name. It came again and Tom realized that somebody _was_ talking to him and his eyelids fluttered up and over his eyeballs faster than he had intended them to, and then he looked up towards where he had thought the voice had come from. His first thought had been Doug but now that he saw the person calling his name he let out a small groan.

"Hey Booker," Tom muttered lightly, voice sounding raw and uneven even to him. Long time... no see." Tom stopped, breath hitching in his throat as he spoke, followed by pain shooting its way throughout his chest like a bolt of lightening.

"Ah shit," Booker hissed. "We gotta get you to the hospital, think you can stand?"

"Where's Doug?" Tom whispered, eyes drifting closed slightly. "S'e okay?"

"I haven't seen him," Booker replied. "But he was lookin' for you, and so were me and Ioki. Now can you move?"

"Doug found me," Tom mumbled, eyes closing. "I just kinda... went away again. That guy, he tried to, but Doug got me... outta there." Tom finished speaking as his breath gave out on him and he started coughing hard, doubling over and holding his chest as pain once again shot throughout his insides. "Stupid..." he muttered, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. "Musta broken somethin'."

"Damn it Tom, can you move?" Dennis repeated harshly, trying to gain the other man's attention.

"I... maybe." Tom tried to stand, placing the hand of his uninjured arm on the ground and pushed upwards. He groaned in pain and sunk back to the ground. "Musta..." Out of breath once again Tom could only sit there and pant like a dog left out in the heat for too long. "Broken," he added, regaining his breath. "Can't move, hurts too much."

"Yeah, uh, I gotta get Ioki, or Doug," Dennis replied quickly. "Just, uh, stay put, alright? I'm gonna get hep."

"Can't go anywhere," Tom muttered lightly, eyes closing. "G'night," he muttered but Booker was already going and never heard him. Once again Tom had fallen asleep, only this time he might not wake up as soon as he had before.


	11. chapter 11

okay, short, probably craptacular, but i'm sick, and any errors tell me because there probably are some... being sick sucks lol but i'm just kinda doing filler chapters here, and then I really just want this story finished because it's been on here for awhile now

When Doug found Tom he had thought the younger man was dead. He hated to think that, but the way Tom's body was slumped over and unmoving had made it seem impossible that he was alive. But then Tom had moaned, a barely audible tone passing through pale lips and Doug had literally let out a loud 'thank you' before leaning down beside Tom to help him. Except he wouldn't wake up. Doug at first only touched his shoulder lightly, then tried harder, using words to help in gaining Tom's attention faster. But no amount of calling out at Tom to wake up, to move, to _do something_, would wake the young officer and Doug's worry grew. He had no idea what was wrong with Tom and upon closer inspection found no signs of head injuries that could cause Tom's deep slumber. So why wouldn't he wake up? Doug was standing, planning on picking Tom up and carrying him to safety when he heard the sirens. He turned towards the approaching sound, taking note of the flashing blue and red heading his way. He didn't even think that they were coming to him and Tom until Booker came running around the corner of the street across from Doug, Ioki following close behind. Doug let out a sigh of relief as the ambulance pulled up to the curb inches away from him and quickly called out to Dennis and Harry. Booker stopped to talk to the paramedics now emerging from the ambulance while Ioki continued on towards Doug and Tom.

"Did you leave him like this?" Doug asked immediately, angered that one of the officers had found Tom and left him alone and unconscious.

"No," Ioki replied quickly, noticing Tom for the first time. "Booker did. But he said Tom was awake and talking when he left."

"I bet he was," Doug muttered, glaring heatedly in Dennis' directions as he moved towards them, paramedics following. As the paramedics walked past Doug to get to their patient, he grabbed onto Dennis' arm, not wanting him near Tom.

"What?" Booker snapped angrily. "Let go of me, Penhall."

"Why'd you leave Tom? He's unconscious!"

"He needed help," Booker replied, voice on edge. "And he was awake when I was with him, so back off."

"Why not get somebody else around to get help, or maybe try and get him to go with you?" Doug's anger was slowly fading as he watched the paramedics loading Tom onto a stretcher, worry for the younger man overcoming all other emotions.

"Because there was nobody else out here," Booker answered lightly. "And he couldn't move. I didn't wanna force him to do somethin' that would hurt him more."

"I, uh, sorry," Doug mumbled, realizing that Booker had only been trying to help.

"Just because I act like I hate him doesn't mean I'm gonna leave him out here like that," Booker stated. "He was awake when I left, and I thought he would be fine until I got back."

"Yeah," Doug mumbled slowly, gaze following as the paramedics now began loading Tom into the back of the ambulance.

"Go," Booker said quickly. "Me and Ioki can get to Fuller and tell him what's going on-" Booker stopped, trying to find out where Ioki had gone to and took note of him standing just behind Doug, nodding in confirmation. "Right," Booker muttered. "Just go with Tom, and we'll meet you at the hospital later."

"Yeah..." Doug said no more, already hurrying to get into the ambulance before it was gone. "I'm goin' with him," he said to the paramedic – Johnson, a name tag read – before climbing into the back of the ambulance. He may not have kept Tom safe out there on the streets but he would at least make sure he got to the hospital and then out of there in the best condition possible.


	12. chapter 12

**okay, i am nearing the end, and i think doug is starting to have feelings for tom, more so than friendship. ah, oops, my bad heh... and erm, i have no idea if stress can cause children and teens to fall unconscious, but uhm yeah... **

Doug had been at the hospital for an hour before he had even been able to talk to a passing doctor. He had yet to find out any news on Tom and he had thought that the doctor could help him in finding out if Tom were even still alive.

"Tom Hanson?"

"Yeah, uh, might be under the name Thomas. Thomas Hanson Junior."

"Right," the doctor replied lowly and then smiled. Doug wanted to punch him out because he had no idea what the doctor had to be happy about. "He's in room 172, sleeping. They just needed to put him through the ER first to make sure he had no damage to his head."

"Does he?"

"No. But he was unconscious when he was brought in, and you said you had been unable to wake him. That's usually caused by severe head trauma."

"Yeah, uh, do you, do you know why he wouldn't wake up?"

"Not entirely," the doctor responded slowly. "I wasn't there the entire time, but I had to see to it he made it back to his room, so I don't know everything about his condition."

"How do I find out then?" Doug asked irritated. "I mean, is there another doc-"

"Calm down, son," the doctor replied with a small laugh. "I was getting to that. Now Dr. Charleston was the one in charge during the examination. And don't worry, from the small amount of time your friend spent there, I'd say he has a good chance of being alright."

"A good chance?" Doug whispered as he began pulling at the bottom of his jacket, worried that the doctor was going to tell him that Tom needed a limb removed or would have to spend the rest of his life in a wheel chair.

"You said something about a dislocated shoulder, right?"

"Yeah, so he should be okay?"

"Yes. He just needed minor surgery due to some cracked ribs, but now he's resting. He should be fine in a few weeks, though."

"Can I see him?" Doug asked, storing Tom's few injuries in the back of his mind. He had seen a few bruises and cuts on the younger man's face, but from what the doctor was saying Doug was guessing all the injuries had been covered – and that Tom would be okay.

"He's sleeping."

"I know, he's been unconscious for awhile now. But I-"

"No," the doctor cut in quickly. "He woke up, right before surgery. But Dr. Charleston put him back to sleep. As soon as the drugs wear off he should awaken again."

"He-he woke up?" Doug whispered, not quite believing what he had heard. He had started yelling at Tom and had gained no response yet the doctor was now telling him that Tom had awoken without anybody forcing him to.

"Yes. We believe he fell unconscious due to the stress of whatever caused his injuries. But once the effects of that wore off in his mind, he began to return to our world. I've seen it a lot in children and teenagers, but rarely in an adult. I'm not entirely sure why that could have happened to Tom."

_I can_ Doug thought, then answered the doctor with a muttered, "He's been through a lot."

"Yes. But only family members are allowed to visit him. You'll have to wait until he wakes up and Dr. Charleston has checked him out again."

"I am family," Doug replied quickly without thinking, glad he hadn't told the doctor his name or flashed his badge yet. "Please, I'm his brother, and, uh, we got no parents or family left."

The doctor clicked his tongue suspiciously and gave Doug the look most people gave himself and Tom whenever they were undercover as the McQuaid Brothers – because Doug was bigger and Tom was smaller, so there was no way they could be related. Doug was about to blurt that Tom had been adopted when the doctor nodded his head slowly, then replied with a brisk, "Alright, follow me."

Doug looked behind him quickly as he began walking away, not needing to be caught by Fuller or Booker and be pulled away from following the doctor – because he knew that Tom would probably be waking up soon and that he might freak out if he woke up to an empty room. And even though he had had to lie to do so, Doug wasn't the least bit worried about getting caught as long as he made sure that Tom wasn't alone when he woke up.


	13. chapter 13

**Okie dokie, sorry for the wait. I'm thinking only a few more chapters on this, and that most, if not all, will be done by the weekend's end. It all depends on how I feel and how much I write. **

Booker gripped the dashboard tightly, regretting his decision to let Ioki drive. He had only agreed because the older man had argued with him about the car belonging to him... Booker hadn't been paying much attention to the words as they left Harry's mouth and had only agreed because arguing would just waste time. But now Ioki was driving, going at least 10 over the speed limit and Dennis was starting to think he wouldn't make it back to the chapel in one piece. The fact that Ioki had nearly crashed at least five times already did nothing to ease his feelings of distress. Once the chapel was in sight, though, Dennis began to calm slightly, grip still tight on the dashboard. But if they made it to the chapel, Booker was never going to be in a vehicle with Harry Ioki driving ever again. It was too dangerous and a hazard to his health.

Dennis was out of the vehicle before Harry had pulled the gears into parking mode and already heading up the chapel steps when Ioki finally emerged from the vehicle himself, confusion etched into his features. He wasn't that bad a driver, was he?

"Hurry up!" Dennis yelled over his shoulder, not slowing his pace as the words were tossed from his mouth quickly like a used candy wrapped a litterer no longer found useful. Harry quickened his pace, reaching the bottom of the stairs as Dennis got to the top. He stopped there, waiting for the other officer to catch up with him before pulling the door open wide and stepping into the familiar office.

"Fuller's here, right?" Booker asked. "I mean, he was working with those shelter guys. What if he's still out there?"

"He should be here," Ioki replied, glancing around the chapel. There were few people left there, most standing at their desks and gathering their belongings. It was five o'clock: time to head home. "Everybody's leaving," Harry continued. "Fuller is always here when that happens, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dennis mumbled, progressing further into the chapel, heading towards Adam's office quickly. "Let's just get him and tell him what happened before he does leave."

--

Doug followed the doctor into the room, not surprised by the stark whiteness of, well, everything. The walls, the floor, the bedsheets... it was all white -- a sign of cleanliness, he knew, but it was still unsettling. It seemed too peaceful, too at ease to be the temporary home of his friend, lying beaten and unconscious on the bed. Because hospitals were not comfortable or easy or happy, and Doug thought that the walls would be better off painted black or red.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" Doug asked, turning his attention away from the walls and settling it on the doctor... and his white uniform.

"There's a good chance. He'll just have to rest for his injuries to heal. And if he wakes up, then he should be okay. I'll leave you alone, now." The doctor turned to leave and then stopped momentarily. "If you need anything, press the button beside his bed. It's on the wall."

Doug nodded as the doctor left, his answer unheard as it was directed at the retreating back. He didn't care, though – he just wanted to make sure Tom was okay.

"Hey," Doug mumbled lightly, sitting down in a chair beside Tom's bed. "They say you're gonna be okay," he whispered, watching Tom's face intently, hoping that his voice would bring the younger man into consciousness. "Come on, Tommy," Doug whispered, pain lacing his tone. "You, you gotta wake up."

Doug let out a short sigh, breath harsh as tears threatened to fall at the sight of Tom's bruised face. He reached for the younger man's hand and gripped it firmly, slowly rubbing circles, trying to force movement into his friend. Tom mumbled something in his sleep and shifted slightly before falling still once again, the only movement being the rise and fall of his chest as he slept on, unknowing of where he was or why.

Doug leaned back in the chair, hand still clasping Tom's, defeated. He knew that the doctor had been right, and that Tom had been drugged into his state of unconsciousness. If Doug wanted him to wake up then he would just have to sit and wait for the effects of the drugs to wear off. And he wasn't going to leave until that happened because no matter what he would make sure Tom didn't wake up alone.


	14. chapter 14

**I'm terribly sorry if Fuller and/or Ioki seem a bit OOC... I seem to pay more attention to Tom and Doug, and even Booker, it seems(yes, I like him) so not too sure about this chapter... again, just filler..**.

--

"He's in the hospital?"

"Yeah. He didn't too look too good," Booker replied uneasily, images of his injured coworker flooding his mind as he spoke.

"How bad?" Fuller pressed, already reaching to grab his jacket.

"He wouldn't wake up."

Fuller glanced at Harry who was standing near the door silently. "Yeah," he agreed. "He was pretty hurt. But just bruises. The not waking up is the worst."

"Alright, let's go," Fuller replied, nodding his head and heading towards the door. "You coming Booker?" he asked when the newest officer made no movement no follow.

"Tom's not gonna want me there," Dennis replied. "I mean, the guy hates me. And Doug thinks I left him out there alone and unconscious."

"He forgave you," Harry replied quickly. "Remember? After you explained what had happened."

"Yeah, course he did," Book muttered. "I don't think he believed me, though. Look, just go without me. I'll go find Judy and tell her what happened."

"Good," Fuller replied, placing a hand on the door knob. "And you go to the hospital with her. I don't care what you and Tom think of each other, you're on this team and he is your partner. He needs as much support as he can get."

Booker opened his mouth to respond but Harry shook his head as a signal not to and he shut it quickly, standing and heading out of the small office. "See ya later," he muttered, hurrying so that he wouldn't get caught up by the two officers behind him. If they wanted him to find Judy, then he would. But he wasn't going to go to the hospital just to get yelled at by Doug or Tom. He knew he wouldn't be wanted there and decided that not going would easily prevent any problems.

--

"Tom Hanson?" the receptionist repeated, looking up at Fuller through a pair of thick-rimmed eyeglasses.

"Yes, he was brought in..." Fuller trailed off and glanced towards Harry.

"About an hour ago?" the younger man finished, not entirely sure about the time line himself.

"Yes," the receptionist agreed. "He was brought in. But his brother is already in with him. You're going to have to wait."

"Brother?" Harry questioned, confused. Fuller smiled warmly at the receptionist. "Thank you," he said before gripping Harry's shoulder lightly and pushing him towards the waiting room.

"What" Ioki questioned. "Tom doesn't have a brother..."

"Doug," Fuller replied lightly, knowing that that was probably who Tom's 'brother' was. After all, Doug was Tom's best friend – and you needed to be in a more familial relationship than that to gain visiting rights.

"Oh, right," Ioki mumbled. "But he's not Tom's brother. Why say he was?"

"Must be only family allowed to see Tom. Look, I'm going to go and find Tom's room and get Doug out here to give us some answers."

"You sure you'll be allowed?"

"I'm a police captain," Fuller stated firmly. "And my badge will get me anywhere I want in this hospital."

"Yeah but-"

"Look, Harry," Fuller cut in quickly, harshly. "Tom's in trouble and right now Doug is the one with him," Fuller started, looking Ioki directly in the eyes. "Now if I can talk to Doug, then I'm betting he can give us something on Tom's condition."

"Yeah, true. I'll wait here, for Judy. And Booker."

"I'll be back soon. They won't let me in Tom's room, but that doesn't mean I can't go and get Doug. If I have to I'll tell them who he really is and at lest get him out here."

"Alright," Harry agreed, taking a seat in one of the hospital issued chairs. Made of hard plastic, it wasn't the most comfortable seat, but it was the best he would get and it beat standing around doing nothing.

Fuller nodded in confirmation and then left, hand already going inside his jacket and pulling out his badge. If he had to use it he was going to make sure that he already had it ready.


	15. chapter 15

Tom awoke after twenty minutes of Doug sitting in the hard plastic chair and watching – watching and waiting. And his waiting had finally paid off. At first Doug had thought that Tom was just talking in his sleep again but after looking closer he realized that Tom's eyes were slowly fluttering open as he moaned again. Once opened, Tom let his gaze, albeit strained and a bit blurry, focus upon the man sitting beside his bed, a look of sad excitement flushed across his face.

"Doug?" Tom mumbled wearily, struggling to push himself up into a more comfortable, sitting position. It was painful, but with Doug's help he was now able to sit, back resting against a pillow.

"Yeah. Nice to see you back here with us," Doug replied, smiling. "Thought you woulda been out for a lot longer."

"Out?" Tom questioned. A moan of pain as his injuries became clear to his slowly-focusing mind and then a muttered, "Oh," as the memories flooded back into his mind. "Yeah, uh, never mind," he mumbled slowly. "How long was I out?"

"About an hour. Maybe longer, I don't know."

"You don't know?" Tom asked, slightly annoyed. "How couldn't you?"

"Because you passed out sometime after Booker found you. When that was, who knows. So about an hour, because that's how long since you were found and brought here."

"Oh, okay then," Tom replied. "Guess I'll have to go with that, then, huh?" he flashed a small smile but Doug could see the pain in his eyes. _No need to the ruin the moment, though_, he thought before giving his own smile.

"So..." Tom started, looking up at Doug, and, for the first time since he had awoken, focused his gaze on his friend fully. "How long have you been here?"

"Uhm," Doug stopped, trying to think. Actually, come to think of it, it had probably been longer than an hour since Tom had been found. Because he knew he had been at the hospital for a little bit past an hour before he had been allowed to see Tom, and before that had been outside with the younger man for about ten minutes. And another twenty or so minutes before he had awoken... "Uhm, about thirty minutes. You were being checked out before that. I think you might have actually been out for about two hours, not one."

"Oh. You've been here the whole time?" Tom questioned. "Why? I mean, didn't you have to go home or something? Get changed..."

"No way," Doug replied quickly, laughing. "I wasn't gonna leave you here alone. Something coulda happened."

"Yeah, guess so. Where's everybody else?"

"I don't know," Doug mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "Booker and Ioki went to the chapel to get Fuller. They should be here anytime."

"Okay. I'm tired, though," Tom mumbled, voice sounding as tired as he felt. "I just wanna sleep, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. And I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

"'kay," Tom mumbled, sliding back down so that he was lying on his back. "G'night, Doug," he whispered, eyelids drooping back over his eyes slowly. In seconds he was asleep again and Doug leaned back in his chair. Waiting wasn't the most fun, but it was better than going home and knowing that Tom might wake up alone and scared.


	16. chapter 16

**I really, really hate this chapter. Fuller seems funny, and so does Doug. But uhm, I don't know how to fix it and it kinda adds to the story so...**

Fuller entered the hospital room, easily, having been stopped by no one on his way to the younger man's room. The nurse at the station had been busy on the phone and everybody else had just passed him by, assuming he was another visitor or patient. It had been fairly easy finding Tom's room, as well – he had been on the same floor as where he had started out in the waiting room, and a quick walk and search down the hallway had gained him an answer to his search: Tom Hanson in bold letters proclaiming that he occupied room 150. And nobody else was in there with him. Well, nobody else except for Doug, but Fuller could handle him. He hadn't wanted to deal with another patient or his visitors.

"Penhall," Fuller called mildly, making his way towards the man sitting beside the bed. Doug looked up at him and smiled weakly, hoping he wouldn't get into trouble for lying about his relationship with Tom. "How is he?" Fuller continued, glancing down at the younger officer, worry gaining control of his features easily as he took in the bruised face.

"He was awake," Doug replied. "The doctors had him sedated, but the drugs wore off," he continued to explain, gaze never leaving Tom's face. "But after I was in here for twenty minutes, he woke up."

"Okay," Fuller replied, relieved. The way Booker and Ioki had been talking he was worried about Tom never waking up again. Or at least not as soon as he had. "Did he go back to sleep on his own?"

"Yeah," Doug replied, relief in his tone as he realized slightly what Adam could be implying: Tom had passed out again and was once again in unwanted unconsciousness. "He's okay; he was just tired."

"That's good," Fuller replied. "You want to go home and change?"

"What?" Doug asked, finally looking up at Fuller. "Oh, no," he added as his captain's words sunk in. "I told Tom I was going to stay."

"I could stay here with him if you wanted to go," Fuller continued, taking in the stress clear on Doug's face.

"No," Doug muttered harshly. "I'm not leaving him."

""Alright," Fuller replied, knowing that arguing with Doug would be useless. "Harry's out in the waiting room. I'm not even supposed to be in here:"

Doug laughed lightly but stopped when he noticed the slightly hardened gaze Fuller was directing at him.

"Neither are you," Fuller added and Doug knew he was in trouble. He stood, ready to apologize, but then Fuller smiled. "It's okay. I understood."

"Yeah?" Doug asked surprised. "I mean, he wouldn't let me in – the doctor, he said family only. I kinda said I was Tom's brother..."

"Sometimes you are," Adam agreed lightly. "At least when you're undercover. And he needed somebody in here with him."

"Exactly," Doug agreed. "Look. Just don't tell the doctors. I don't want Tom to be alone."

"I won't, don't worry," Fuller replied, placing an arm on Doug's shoulder. "I would have done the same thing." When Doug gave the slightest hint of a smile, Fuller added, "Except I would have said I was an uncle. I don't think I could pass as Tom's brother."

"Not unless his mum married-" Doug quickly stopped speaking as his thoughts caught up in his mind and he smiled goofily. "Right, uh," he mumbled. "You should go tell Ioki that Tom's gonna be okay, huh?"

"I am the captain, Doug," Fuller began in a strong tone. "But you're right. Just make sure we get Tom out of here in one piece."


	17. chapter 17

**blah. this story is taking a bit longer to finish than I had expected. damn hospitals. But I think I can send tom home next chapter. And this one has humour because you need that with angst or else it sucks. And because doug and tom are awesome like this.**

Doug had to use the washroom. Really, really badly. The only problem was that he didn't want to leave Tom alone in case he woke up. He knew that the washroom in Tom's room was just behind him, but it still seemed too far away. And Doug wasn't even sure why he wanted to stay near Tom so much. He was worried, yes, but the feeling inside of him gluing him to that chair like a statue seemed stronger than just worry. But still, he really had to go, and the washroom was in the room -- he wouldn't really be leaving Tom, then, would he?

"Doug?"

Doug jumped at the soft voice, startled. He wasn't even aware that Tom had been awake.

"Damn it, Hanson," Doug muttered. "You scared me."

"Yeah, well, pay more attention next time," Tom mumbled, laughing lightly. "But seriously, just use the damn washroom already."

"How do you even know I need to use it?" Doug asked, annoyed that Tom had known his thoughts so easily.

"Because I've been lying here and watching you for about five minutes now," Tom replied casually. "And you keep looking towards the washroom. Now help me out here."

"Help with what?" Doug asked, quickly worried. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Calm down," Tom muttered lightly. "You're acting like my mum. I just need help sitting up."

"Oh," Doug mumbled, tension easing. "Yeah, 'course." He held onto Tom's uninjured arm steadily and then reached his other arm behind his back, hooking it around Tom's waist, easily pulling the younger man up into a sitting position. "Better?"

"I gotta go to the washroom," Tom replied, smiling. "But you go first. You've been awake and needing it longer."

"You can-"

"Doug," Tom cut in harshly, breath hitching before he started coughing.

"Tommy?" Doug asked, afraid that Tom would hurt himself further. "Tommy, you okay?"

The coughing slowly faded away and Tom gave Doug a lopsided grin. "Of course I'm okay," he replied. "People cough all the time, Doug. Now go use the damn washroom already."

Doug sighed, defeated, and then stood. Once he did the fullness of his bladder become more aware to him and he laughed. "Uh, be right back, then," he said as he headed to the washroom quickly. Tom gave a short laugh before settling back against the pillow, a numbing pain slowly beginning to travel throughout his arm, chest, and head. He was starting to think that maybe he was more hurt than he had previously thought.

"Alright, Tommy, you're go," Doug called out as he exited the washroom, wiping wet hands off on the front of his worn jeans.

"Yeah, yeah," Tom mumbled. "I don't think I can get up, though."

"Oh come on," Doug mumbled. "Your legs weren't hurt too, were they?"

"No, but lying around made them die, I think," Tom replied, trying to swing numb legs over the side of the bed. He let out a small laugh of pain as a stinging sensation shot throughout them and looked to Doug. "Well..."

"Well what?" Doug asked. "You're legs just fell asleep, Tommy; they're not actually dead. And you need to get up and walk around to fix 'em."

"Yeah, well, I can't exactly without falling because I can't feel my legs. Now help me."

"Oh, come on," Doug cried out. "What am I supposed to do, whack your legs until they wake up?"

"No," Tom muttered, glaring angrily at Doug. "Just help me stand and hold me so I don't fall. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Doug mumbled, moving towards the bed and stooping so that he could get a good grip on Tom's uninjured arm. He helped ease Tom off of the bed and once they were both standing, kind of – Tom was a bit bent over as his legs wavered and nearly gave out underneath him – Doug wrapped an arm around Tom's shoulder, gaining a firm grip on the younger man and steering him off towards the washroom.

"Would you-" Tom muttered but then Doug tripped over the younger man's feet and fell forward, Tom following closely. Luckily for Tom he landed on Doug, not causing any more harm to his injured body except for a small pain shooting throughout his relocated shoulder.

"Get offa me," Doug muttered from underneath Tom. "Right now, Tommy. I can hear you laughing."

Tom continued laughing but obeyed Doug and slowly stood, all feeling now back in his legs. "Thanks, Doug," he replied casually, stepping over his friend and going into the washroom. Doug glared at the younger man's back, sighing. At least Tom didn't seem pissed off anymore.


	18. Chapter 18

_sorry for the late update, I was trying to get it out fast but then life started sucking again so I said screw writing. Sorry for the lateness but this is the last bit. uhm because I ain't too certain on the conditions in which patients are released and all that and because all this hospital crap sucks I am skipping to when after Tom is released. _

When Tom staggered slightly, Doug let a small curse as he rushed to help steady his friend. "Maybe you shoulda gotten into the wheelchair, huh?"

"No," Tom muttered. "I can walk just fine. I am surprised that they didn't just strap me into one, anyways: the way the nurse was glaring at me, I thought she would!"

"Yeah, so did I," Doug agreed. "How the hell are we supposed to, or how are you supposed to, get home?"

"What do you mean?" Tom questioned, looking towards the other officer, confusion evident. "You're going home, too, right?"

"Me?" Doug laughed. "You weren't hit that hard, were you, Tommy?"

"No... what?" Before Doug could respond, Tom yelled out angrily," Shit! We forgot, the guy, _our _guy, is still tied up!"

"What?" Now Doug was confused.

"That bastard who attacked me!" Tom yelled excitedly. "Damn it Doug, he coulda escaped!"

Tom looked about ready to run off but Doug grabbed his arm, holding him in place. "Calm down Tommy," he said. "I told the motel clerk guy what had happened. He kinda knew already, but I told him everything and to call the police. He was dialing before I made it to the door."

"Oh, okay. That's good." Tom let out a short, shaky, breath. "Then why aren't you going home? Case is done with."

"I don't have a home," Doug replied sadly. "Remember?"

"Oh, right," Tom whispered. "I'm sorry, for bringing it up."

"Hey, it's okay," Doug responded in a too-happy voice. "Let's just get you home then i'll worry about me."

"How?"

"Take a cab, I guess. I got about twenty bucks. Fuller and the others already left, so it's that or walk."

"I don't wanna walk," Tom moaned. "I'm tired, and in pain, remember? So unless you wanna carry me, we're taking a cab."

"I'm not carrying you," Doug agreed without actually saying so. "Let's go, then. I think there's a pay phone just down the street."

"Alright then," Tom agreed, falling into step beside Doug. "And you do have a home, if you want it."

"What are you on about?" Doug muttered, slowing his pace as Tom tried hard to keep in step with him. He was breathing heavily, one arm crossed over his chest. "Those drugs finally kicking in or something?"

"No," Tom replied. "No drugs. But you basically saved my life, Doug. Twice, actually."

"Yeah?" Doug answered casually, stopping as Tom nearly slowed to a stop, wiping at his brow. "You _are _my partner and best friend."

"So..." Tom started again, both walking and talking. "I think you've earned my living room couch."

"I'm sorry, what?" Doug asked, surprised. "I saved your ass, Tom Hanson!"

"I know," Tom stressed. "Which is why-"

"No no," Doug muttered as Tom began walking off ahead of him. "I mean, I saved your ass, which I think earns me more than a couch."

"In your dreams, Penhall!" Tom called out. "I nearly died, so the bed is still mine!"

_so shitty end, whatever... got in what I wanted to so it's done, no more. And yeah short but meh, it was just a filler type thing to wrap up the damn thing finally._

_and i ain't sure if i'll get anything up for Paper Wings because i don't feel like writing anything too longish(i expect the next chapter to be fairly long) right now, although i may work on some drabbles or something for that prompts thing. and tomorrow i might have to go to some stupid b-day thing for my aunt and i got no idea how long i'll be stuck there. i am home monday, though, so i can try working on it then._


End file.
